Mr Wigg, Inga Simpson, Hachette Australia, $29.95
Mr Wigg is a novel that reminds the reader of simple, luxurious pleasures and there were several things I could not resist doing, in between reading this story. I opened a jar of home-made raspberry jam I bought from a fete and spread it on bread and enjoyed it with a cup of tea; I peeled a dozen apples and pears and stewed them with cinnamon and sugar and made a pie; I stirred a spoonful of sugar into a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice; and I remembered the stunted, abundantly fruited, apple tree growing outside my childhood home in Tasmania and wished I had fruit trees growing in my garden now.
This is the story of Mr Wigg, an elderly man living on the unsold remainder of his farm, who tends to his orchard and his late wife’s flowers, cares for his grandchildren and enchants them with his stories, and reflects on his life.
Mr Wigg is a work of literary fiction and has been deservedly well reviewed. One reviewer writes that it made him think of the American classic, To Kill A Mockingbird. Certainly, Mr Wigg is similarly delicately written with a memorable voice, but a more helpful comparison is Alaskan writer Eowyn Ivey’s The Snow Child (coincidentally published by part of the same publishing house that publishes Mr Wigg)*. The Snow Child combines old fables with a more recent setting, and at moments these enchanting stories transcend the core narrative. Both The Snow Child and Mr Wigg stem from the painful loss of a loved one, and the authors create a vivid, evocative literary landscape using only the most basic of props: a simple home, a rural location, and few interruptions from the outside world.
Inga Simpson draws her story with a steady hand, from the rainbow colours of the fruits, to the differing personalities of the orchard’s trees, to Mr Wigg’s daily rituals. Each word has been carefully considered, descriptions never repeat themselves, and the prose is deliciously lyrical. As a writer, something else I admire is how there are no overly dramatic twists to propel the narrative, yet the story is hard to put down. The ending too is well handled. Without giving anything away, there were a few options for how this story could conclude. I was wondering where it was going to go, and I’m pleased it ended the way it did. There were things I wanted more of – the daughter, in particular – but life is not neat and tidy, and this is a novel that reflects the complex, intricately meshed joys and regrets of a life lived.
The question of how a family’s fortune is to be shared between children, and how everyone reacts to that, is as relevant today as it was in bygone times. Without being judgemental, Simpson raises the issue of how we treat our elderly people. The solution she offers, subtly, consists of kindness. I was left questioning the way I behave to older people in my life. I wonder if other readers will also feel inclined to call their father-in-law, visit an elderly neighbour who lives alone, or spend quality time with an older relative or friend.
I was curious to learn that Inga Simpson has published a previous novel, yet this is not acknowledged on the publisher’s official spiel about this book. I wonder why? It’s a spy novel, and it sounds interesting. Poor old early novels, created out of hours of passion and determination, cherished once, yet forgotten when the next shiny novel steps into the spotlight! I’m a big fan of debut novels – I’d love to read earlier work by this author.
I was fortunate to be able to visit my local bookstore, Black Cat Books, when Inga Simpson was doing a Brisbane bookseller meet and greet tour. I met her and she kindly signed a book for me, and for my mother, and stamped them with her special Mr Wigg peach insignia stamp. My mother adored this book, she read it in about two days. I loved this book too – I was lost in Mr Wigg’s story from the very first page.
*My novel, Bay of Fires, published by Little, Brown in the USA and Headline in the UK, is distributed in Australia by Hachette.
